


Not It

by ShipArmada (SarahSelene)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, So much fluff it might rot your teeth, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 08:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahSelene/pseuds/ShipArmada
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale had a conversation that distressed Aziraphale. But Aziraphale is not ignoring the demon. That would be ridiculous.





	Not It

Aziraphale wanted nothing more in life than to, well, have a life. A simple life, with his book shop and his travels, marveling at all that humans could do despite not being able to perform miracles. Well, maybe Aziraphale would help here or there but that was hardly the point. Humans would have found a way to do it if he did not help, after all. He just gave a little push.

No, Aziraphale really wanted nothing more than to have a nice, simple life. There was really only one thing in his way, and Aziraphale was about to be interrupted by that very force in Three... Two... One...

"Aziraphale!" Crowley called as he burst through the front door of the book shop. It made Aziraphale jump so hard he almost dropped his devil's food cake onto the floor, and what a terrible waste that would have been. Sure, by some miracle Aziraphale would have been able to keep it safe, but he really was trying to cut back on miracles.

Aziraphale found himself forcing the smallest of smiles, setting his cake down on his desk, and stepping out of his back office to face the demon in his shop. He was sure he had locked the door, the shop had been closed for hours, but locks were no deterrent for a demon whom you had asked to leave you alone. "Crowley," Aziraphale said, folding his hands in front of him, a shield between him and his, reluctantly admitted, friend. "How can I help you?"

"You've been avoiding me," Crowley said with an accusing finger, pointing right at him. Aziraphale felt his smile freeze into place and watched as Crowley stalked over to him. "I've been looking for you everywhere, and you've been avoiding me."

"Nonsense," Aziraphale said, taking a step back from him. It was not that he was afraid of Crowley. He had never been afraid of Crowley, it was just... "I'm in my shop, the easiest place to be found anywhere in the world, about to sit down with a slice of cake and a good book. How is that avoiding you?"

"You're avoiding me," Crowley said, his tone accusing and... Scared? What did Crowley have to be scared of? "You haven't popped in to see me since our last conversation, and I got..." Crowley shut his jaw with a snap, a sound akin to a growl leaving his throat before he suddenly turned and started pacing.

"Crowley, we've gone entire millennia without seeing each other and you got worried over a few months?" Crowley always had been so emotional, unlike him, the pinnacle of holy calm. Not that bringing up their previous conversation didn't... Stir things. Unpleasant feelings that Aziraphale did his best to avoid.

Crowley stopped in his place and looked over at Aziraphale. Aziraphale could feel heat coming from behind those shaded eyes, a heat hotter than the depths of hell, or the Saharan desert on a Wednesday. "You've been thinking about it, haven't you? What we discussed. Did it really upset you so much?"

"Poppycock," Aziraphale responded. Crowley always did have the wildest imagination. "As if something like that would upset me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have-"

As Aziraphale turned to make his hasty escape into his office, Crowley was there, standing in his way. Aziraphale could, of course, hop around him, but really what a frivolous miracle that would be. "So you haven't changed your mind?" Crowley asked, taking in a deep breath. "About... It?"

Aziraphale wished at that moment he had a true heart because if he did it would have been racing in his chest like a damsel in those tawdry romance novels he hid in the back of his office that he swore he never read. "Of course I haven't," he said to the demon in truth. "I haven't even thought about it since then," he said to the demon in lies.

"Well, why not?" Crowley said, throwing up his hands. "It wouldn't be that bad, not really. Humans do it all the time!"

"And we're not human," Aziraphale cut in. "I'm an angel, and you're a demon. We're not human."

"Please," Crowley said, and Aziraphale was so shocked to hear the word come out of his mouth Aziraphale almost stepped back into the bookshelf. "Just the one time. If you hate it we'll stop. As soon as you say."

"Don't tempt me, Crowley," Aziraphale said, his urge to turn and run from the bookshop, never to return, was mounting with every second that ticked between them. When had Crowley gotten so close? "I've told you before, you move to fast."

"You tempt me every day, Angel," Crowley said, and Aziraphale realized Crowley was sliding ever closer to him. "Please."

Aziraphale stared at him. This close he could see the outline of those orange eyes through the lenses of his sunglasses. He wished Crowley would not hide them. Demonic or not, those eyes were Aziraphale's favorite feature. "Well... Alright. Just this once but... Promise you'll stop if I ask?"

"I promise," Crowley said. Crowley was smiling then, a small smile that shown like the sun and Aziraphale wanted to drink it in. He glanced down when he saw movement, watching as Crowley's hand moved with hesitation towards him.

Aziraphale swallowed and he unfolded his hands. He kept one on his stomach but let the other fall to his side. An easy target. First one of Crowley's long, thin, fingers stroked against Aziraphale's, and then a second. They slid one by one until they were in the palm of Aziraphale's hand, stroking gently until Aziraphale spread his fingers, and the invading visitors slithered into place, locking with him.

Aziraphale was then quite sure he was happy to not have a heart because it would have exploded at that moment had he one.

"See?" Crowley whispered to him, gentle as if near a scared deer. "Not so bad."

"I suppose not," Aziraphale responded, still fighting his urge to escape out his office door, maybe jump out the window. It was, however, far more pleasant to hold his hand than expected. "I suppose it is actually, for lack of better words, nice."

It should have been impossible for such a small smile to be so bright, but it somehow became brighter despite the impossibilities. "Then, perhaps, one day we could do it again?"

"Don't get carried away," Aziraphale said with a swallow. "But... Yes, perhaps we can do this again... One day."


End file.
